Chapter 5 The Game begins

As soon as the door closed behind Lia and Romeo, silence fell heavy in the room.

Then Madea stepped forward, her heels echoing on the floor. She reached out like she could still touch a version of him that would let her.

"I really missed you... and Romeo," she said, voice soft, broken.

"I was stupid. I shouldn't have left. Dan played me. He used me."

Mateo's jaw clenched.

"I don't care."

Her lips trembled.

"Please... please, baby..."

"Don't." His voice cut clean.

"You really think you can play the victim card here?"

He stepped forward, his presence dark, towering.

"Look at me, Madea." His eyes burned through her.

"You don't get to be the victim. You ran off with my rival my enemy and now you come crawling back like nothing happened? Like you deserve forgiveness? You think I'm stupid?"

The softness on her face vanished, replaced with something sharper. Cold. Proud.

"You still love me, don't you?" she asked.

Silence.

Mateo's fists curled at his sides.

"Get out."

Madea let out a short, bitter laugh.

"You couldn't get over me. Poor you. I love you, Mateo. I've always loved you. Even with Dan, my mind always came back to you."

"What do you want, Madea?" he asked quietly, exhausted.

She straightened her posture.

"I'm here for my son."

Mateo scoffed.

"You're here for the son you abandoned*?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Don't you dare throw that word at me. Don't pull the judgment card. I'm his mother. I gave birth to him. I'm here for him now."

"You can't have him." His voice was steady. Final.

"You're not serious." She stepped forward.

"You're going to deny me my own son?"

"Yes."

"He's my son."

"And you left him." Mateo's voice cracked like thunder.

"And as you can see, he's doing just fine without you."

Madea's eyes darkened.

"You want a war, Mateo? Fine. Let's go to war. I'll sue you for custody. I'll drag you through court, I'll tell the world you kept him from me. I will win."

She snatched her bag from the floor, her heels clicking toward the door. Her fingers curled around the handle, and just before stepping out, she turned back, eyes narrowed into slits.

"You'll regret this."

And then she was gone.

---

Back in the garden, Romeo chased Peanut through the tall grass, giggling as the little hamster darted ahead.

But Lia wasn't fully present.

Her mind was elsewhere.

Madea.

The tattoo...

She had seen it. The faint scrawl of mad... inked over Mateo's chest. She hadn't seen the full name but now, it clicked.

Madea.

It had to be.

That tattoo was her name.

Lia blinked. She didn't even know what to think. Or how to feel.

Were they still together?

If they weren't, why did he still have her name tattooed over his heart?

And if they were... why did it sting?

Why are you even bothered? she asked herself.

She tried to shake the thoughts away, but her chest felt tight. Her mind, louder than ever.

You can't like your boss, Lia. You can't.

Her fingers curled slightly, resisting the urge to literally slap herself out of it.

But then Romeo stopped running.

Still.

Frozen.

His gaze was fixed on something.

Lia followed his eyes and her stomach dipped.

Madea.

She was leaving.

The chauffeur held the back door of the sleek black car open. She slid in without a glance back.

Romeo didn't move. He just stared.

"She's leaving... again," he said quietly.

Then, even softer

"And she didn't even say goodbye."

Lia's chest tightened.

She stepped forward and knelt beside him, wrapping an arm gently around his small shoulders.

"Hey... it's okay, buddy," she said softly.

"Maybe she had something important to do," she added, forcing a smile.

"She'll be back soon."

But Romeo shook his head.

"She won't," he whispered.

"She'll come back three years later. Like she always does. Then disappear again."

Lia's heart cracked.

What kind of pain did a five-year-old have to carry to say something like that?

She followed the car with her eyes as it rolled out of the estate, disappearing through the iron gates.

"I'm so sorry, buddy," she whispered, her hand gently stroking his curls.

"Come here."

Romeo walked into her arms slowly, his head lowered.

Lia hugged him tightly.

"She's going to come back," she murmured.

"And when she does... you'll have the best time with her, okay?"

Romeo gave a small nod against her shoulder.

And just like that, he pulled back.

"Peanut's getting away again!" he shouted, pointing.

And with that, he was off, chasing the hamster with renewed energy.

Lia watched him go, her chest still aching.

---

Later that night, Lia was in Romeo's room, sitting beside his bed as he tried to fall asleep.

But sleep wasn't coming easily.

He kept talking. Softly. Hopeful.

"When Mommy comes back, I'll show her the picture I drew."

"I'll tell her about Peanut."

"Maybe... maybe she'll take me to the beach."

Lia just nodded, gently stroking his hair as he talked himself into sleep. And when his breathing finally slowed, she exhaled quietly and slipped out of the room.

She didn't know why her feet took her there, but soon, she was standing outside his study door again.

She knocked once.

"Come in." His voice came

She stepped in.

"Sunshine."

"Hi." she said

Mateo stood and strolled toward her, shirt sleeves rolled, collar loose, a storm in his expression.

Lia hesitated.

Then quietly said,

"So... she's Romeo's mom."

He didn't say anything.

Just watched her.

"She's beautiful," she added, her voice quiet. Careful.

Still, nothing from him.

"I saw your tattoo," she murmured.

His gaze flickered, but he remained still.

"Are you... okay?"

That was when he moved.

He stepped closer.

Her breath caught.

"Am I okay?" he repeated, his voice low.

Lia blinked. "W–what are you...?"

Before she could finish, he had her pinned gently against the wall.

Not rough.

But firm. Sure.

Her back hit the cool surface. Her eyes widened.

"S–sir?" she whispered.

He leaned in.

Sniffed her neck.

Her earlobe.

She went completely still, not knowing what to do with her hands, her breath, her heart.

"Are you gonna make me okay... if I tell you I'm not?"

His voice was a whisper now, a rumble. Hot against her skin.

"Hmmm?"

Lia didn't know what to say. Didn't know what was happening what she wanted. What he wanted.

And then just as quickly, he pulled away.

The air shifted.

Cold.

"Get out," he said.

Flat. Dismissive.

She stared at him, blinking.

Disbelief, confusion, and something else wound tight in her chest.

She turned and walked out, heart still racing, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

Yes, that just happened, Lia. 😮‍💨

---

Mateo was still in the study.

Alone.

The room was too quiet now, and the air felt heavier with every second.

He ran a hand down his face.

He had snapped.

He wasn't supposed to snap at her.

Not her.

The second she walked out, his chest had clenched. Guilt curled deep in his gut.

Without thinking, he left the study.

His steps were quiet as he moved through the hallway. He stopped outside her door, hesitated, then knocked.

The door opened.

Lia stood there, dressed in a soft silk nightie. Her hair was loose, her eyes slightly puffy from the day. She looked so innocent, so delicate... so undeniably hot

Mateo's eyes raked her body before he could stop himself.

The thin silk clung to her like second skin. Her nipples were visible beneath it...hard, soft, real.

His throat tightened.

What are you doing? he thought.

She's your son's nanny.

Lia's voice broke his stare.

"Sir?" she said, catching the way his eyes lingered too long.

He blinked. "Can I come in?"

She hesitated...then stepped aside.

He walked in.

The room smelled like lavender and faint vanilla. Peaceful.

"I... I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said quietly.

Lia didn't say anything right away. She just looked at him.

Soft eyes. Unsure.

"I shouldn't have..." he paused. His jaw clenched.

"You didn't deserve that."

Lia shook her head gently. "It's alright. I should've minded my own business."

"I just wanted to know if you were okay."

He met her gaze.

"I'm not."

That made her pause.

"I'm not okay, Lia. I've been through a lot," he confessed, voice raw now, stripped down.

"My son's mother came back tonight. After years. After disappearing. She threatened to sue me for full custody of Romeo."

Lia's eyes widened.

"That's... that's a lot."

He stepped forward-just slightly.

"That's why I need your help."

Her brows pulled together. "W–what can I do?"

He looked her in the eyes.

"Help me get over her."

She blinked.

"H–help you how?"

"Pretend to be my girlfriend."

Silence dropped between them.

She froze.

"S–sir?"

"Yes." His voice was firm now, like he'd made the decision long ago.

"I'm losing my mind, Lia. I don't trust anyone else around my son. And if she thinks I've moved on... if she thinks there's no place for her here..."

He trailed off.

"You don't have to say yes now. Think about it."

And with that, he turned and walked out.

Leaving her there.

In the middle of the room.

Heart racing.

Mind spinning.

Did that just happen?

---

The door creaked open as Madea stepped into the sleek, dimly lit office. It smelled of expensive leather and ambition. Sitting behind a large glass desk was Dan sharp-suited, cold-eyed, and already sipping a drink.

She didn't wait for an invitation.

"Hey, baby," she purred, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps. Her heels clicked against the marble. She perched herself on his lap like she belonged there.

Dan didn't smile.

"This is taking too long," he said flatly.

Madea draped her arms around his neck, tilting his face toward hers.

"Patience, *mi amor.*" Her lips brushed his. "He rejected me, yes... but I saw it in his eyes." She smirked. "Mateo still loves me. That fire it's still there. Barely, but it's there."

Dan raised a brow. "So?"

"So..." she smiled wickedly, her voice like poison in silk, "I'm going to use that. I'll go back to him. Make him trust me again. Make him fall again." She leaned closer, her breath brushing his ear. "And when he does... we'll hit him harder than before. This time, he won't recover. He'll crumble."

Dan chuckled darkly, eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. "Good. I can't wait to watch him burn."

Their lips met again this time, slow and deliberate.

This wasn't love.

It was war in disguise.